Diary of TM Riddle
by Luanna255
Summary: We all know that Voldemort's diary was really a Horcrux... but what if, before that, it really was just a diary? What might he have written in there at the age of 15? Written to explore the more human side of Tom Riddle, and how he became what he was. T/M


**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own any of these characters. (Except Professors Brightley and Almsworthy.)**

**A/N: First I write a Neville/Hannah fic, and now THIS. I assure you, until recently I have never thought to myself "You know what? I would like to write a story in which I spend large amounts of time in Voldemort's head". And yet that's exactly what I'm doing. Clearly, I must be possessed. If I start scrawling messages in chicken blood you'll know who to blame. (Okay, that was a bad joke.) If you find this chapter boring, rest assured that the next chapters won't be like this. This chapter is mostly me taking full advantage of the fact that Tom was in Hogwarts during the 1940's, and trying to guess what he would have thought of the world around him at the time (since, Muggle-hater or not, he strikes me as the sort of person who would always be well-informed of the world). Actually, that makes it sound more boring than it is. I hope I haven't put anyone off with that sentence. It's not all about politics, I promise. It's... you know what? Please just read it. I'm doing more damage than good, here. (It doesn't help that I'm writing this at 3:04 a.m.) **

**The pairing for this story, if there is one, is Tom/Minerva, but I'm hesitant about writing Voldemort in a romantic relationship so there might not be much. I did kind of set up for it in this chapter, though.**

**Please review!**

October 11, 1942

Dear Diary:

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Writing in this diary, I mean. Because, let me tell you, I am _not_ a diary kind of person. That whole touchy-feely, let-me-gush-about-my-feelings thing rather disgusts me, in fact. There might be those who think that I don't have feelings at all; the truth is, I just don't trust other people enough to confide in anyone. Even a diary is a foolhardy risk – what if it should fall into the wrong hands? – but I've spelled this one to conceal the entries in a way which only I can get through – and erase the memory of anyone who _does_ somehow get through the enchantment – so I should be safe.

The only reason I even own this stupid thing is that it was a (highly unwanted, needless to say) birthday present. I forget from whom.

Oh, yes, I do remember – Antonin Dolohov. When I asked him why in Salazar's name he had given me a diary – thinking that, since he considers himself my friend, he ought to know something of the above reasons – he gave me a _look_ and replied, as if it were obvious, "Because you're smart."

Apparently in Antonin's mind being intelligent is synonymous with keeping a diary. I suppose, not being intelligent himself, that the poor boy couldn't be expected to know any better, so I politely thanked him and shoved the diary into my bag, where it has remained, untouched, until now.

You might ask (if you weren't an inanimate object, that is) why, being that my distaste for diaries is quite evident, I am writing in this thing _now_. The short answer is two words: Muggle Studies.

I have no idea why I'm even taking this stupid subject.

Okay, that's a lie. I do. After all, I rarely do anything without planning it through first. I'm taking this subject because I thought it would be a good idea to get an idea of the current Wizarding view of Muggles, to see how much correction is necessary. And, I mean, I was _expecting _it to be pro-Muggle. I was prepared for that.

What I _wasn't_ prepared for is that the professor, Almsworthy, is the most old-fashioned, insufferable stuffed-shirt I've ever laid eyes on. He's also the most biased teacher in this school, and that's including Albus "I'm Supposed To Be Teaching You Transfiguration But Somehow I'll End Up Lecturing You About How _Loooove _Conquers All And Purists Are Evil" Dumbledore. (Okay, to be fair to Dumbledore, he doesn't actually talk about those things _that _often. But it just grates on my nerves when he does. Especially since he always stares at me, as though he's daring me to disagree with him. Like I'm stupid enough to do that.)

Before I came to Hogwarts, I'm told, the subject was taught by one Professor Brightley, who, being a pure-blood, would bring in Muggle objects such as telephones and radios and attempt (incompetently, no doubt) to explain them to the class.

The year before I arrived, however, Professor Brightley retired and was replaced by our current professor, Almsworthy.

To give credit where credit is due (and I always do), Professor Almsworthy is a Mudblood and therefore, whatever his other shortcomings, far more qualified than his predecessor. Horrified by the ignorance of Muggle history common among young witches and wizards, he suggested that the class start focusing on Muggle history and culture through the ages.

That doesn't sound too bad, right? While I'm not very enamored of Muggles themselves, I actually happen to love Muggle history. Wars, beheadings, torture, corrupt churchmen, despotic rulers – sign me up!

And, don't get me wrong, we _are _learning about all of that. But what I didn't know coming in was that Almsworthy was born in 1802, and if he'd had his way, time would have frozen back in the Victorian era, back in the good old days when they covered up everything up with a stifling blanket of morality and it was illegal to be interesting. Somehow, no matter what his topic _allegedly _is, he winds up comparing the morality of whatever time period we're studying to those "good old days" and lecturing about how society's morals are going down the drain. Snore.

Take today, for example. We're allegedly covering Muggle Current Events, and he's lecturing us about the evils of swing music. That's right. _Swing music._ I mean, come on! There's a war going on! Tell us something about Hitler! Hell, at this point I would even be happy to hear about that fool, Gandhi, who thinks he's somehow going to achieve something with loincloths and salt. (If you ask me, "passive resistance" is basically code for "I'm too weak to actually _do _anything". If he took out an air rifle and started gunning down Brits, the government would probably take him more seriously.)

But, oh no. According to Almsworthy, swing is a bigger threat than the atomic bomb, and the Andrews Sisters are more evil than Hitler, Mussolini, and Grindelwald combined.

I wonder if Almsworthy knows that Hitler is violently against swing. Apparently he thinks it's influenced by Jews and blacks. He's being stupid, really. If I ever- _When _I'm in control, I won't waste time and energy policing what kind of music people listen to, or how they dance.

It's always like this. Last week, when we were supposed to be studying the Suffragists and Suffragettes and the birth of Universal Women's Suffrage, he went off on this whole tirade about how in his day women "knew their place" and didn't have these "newfangled ideas of being in the workplace and the voting booth". Minerva McGonagall looked like she wanted to hex him on the spot. Of course, she's too much of a goody-goody to do it, (not that I blame her; we have to pick our battles) so she had to content herself with practically jumping out of her seat and paraphrasing Mary Wollstonecraft (although I'm pretty sure Almsworthy and I were the only two people in the room who knew who she was paraphrasing; most I've my classmates are ignorant beyond belief of the Muggle world. Yesterday Olive Hornby actually asked me if the Allies and the Axis were Quidditch teams) until Almsworthy took five points from Gryffindor for calling out and she had to content herself with sitting, tight-lipped, and glaring at him from behind her glasses. It was pretty funny, actually. (Not as funny as if she'd _actually _hexed him, though. Plus, then he probably would've taken at least fifty points from Gryffindor, instead of a paltry five. Win-win.)

Actually, now that I think of it, Almsworthy's views on women are in line with Hitler's as well. '_Kinder, Küche, Kirche'_, and all that. Maybe he's a secret Hitler supporter. It would be nice to know I'm not the only one - although, I happen to disagree with Hitler's (and Almsworthy's) views on women. Not because I care a jot if they feel oppressed, but simply because it's _stupid_. I know better than to turn down a potential ally, and women can be powerful allies as well as men. If a woman wanted to join me or work for me, I would let her. But Almsworthy, as with most of his views, is too hung up on his obsolete notions of "morality" to see what would be obvious to anyone with half a mind.

All of which explains why I, despite being completely adverse to the idea of "sharing my feelings" with anyone or anything, let alone a small leather-bound book, am sitting here and writing in this diary. Almsworthy thinks I'm taking notes. I'm being careful to keep an alert, focused look on my face, and I'm paying enough attention that every so often I ask an intelligent, insightful question to show that I'm following along. Almsworthy is practically beaming at me. Diary or no diary, I must be the only one in this room who's even close to paying attention. Even Perfect Miss McGonagall looks glassy-eyed, and Avery is actually asleep. Snoring, too.

Apparently, swing is degenerate, and the dance style reflects our baser instincts. Yawn. Actually, McGonagall looks much less disturbed by this lesson. She actually looks as if she's _agreeing_ with Almsworthy. Then again, she's not exactly the kind of girl you can picture letting a boy pick her up around the waist and twirl her around, is she? I'd like to see what would happen to any boy who tried. She'd probably hex him on the spot.

That almost makes me want to try it. Great. First I start writing in this diary, and now I'm fantasizing about swing-dancing with Minerva McGonagall. Something must be wrong with me today.

Now Almsworthy is babbling something about "the moral downward spiral which began with the decadent lifestyle, dress, and mannerisms of the so-called flappers, and has only spun steadily downward since, sucking Britain's youth into the maelstrom of debauchery." I must say, the 'maelstrom of debauchery' sounds rather appealing. Probably more appealing than whatever he's talking about. (Movies? Roller skating? Records? Or are we still on swing? I should start paying attention.) The man does have a way with metaphors. Not to mention hyperbole.

Honestly, can he get over himself? It isn't the Victorian era anymore; it's the 1940's. Welcome to the modern world. The time for repressive, stuffy Victorian morality is long over. It's time to look beyond what we've traditionally looked at as good and evil. It's time for a new way of life, a new way of thinking. It's time to see through the lies we've been told all our lives and see the world for what it really is, separating the worthy from the unworthy. And on that note…

But, I'll save that for another time.

~ L.V.


End file.
